Something I Need
by skygirl55
Summary: Author Richard Castle stumbles across Assistant District Attorney Kate Beckett and is instantly captivated. Using his connections with the mayor, he gets himself a six week pass to shadow her. Kate begins to count down the hours, wishing the six weeks were up, not realizing those six weeks will change her life forever. AU.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: I saw a prompt on Tumblr and I just couldn't resist starting a fic for it. The prompt was simple: What would have happened if Kate's mother hadn't been murdered? So I decided to take the story from the point of "Flowers for Your Grave" assuming that everything in Castle's life remained as it was on the show; however, because Kate's mother was still living, she never joined the NYPD. And thus the story begins..._

_Enjoy!_

* * *

**One**

Richard Castle had been called many things throughout his life, many of them true. Mystery novelist. Millionaire playboy. Ruggedly handsome. And now social miscreant all because he violated a few pesky laws. Okay, so maybe climbing in that fountain after having more than several beers was not his brightest idea, but just because he _happened_ to lose his belt during a drinking game gone awry earlier that night and he _happened_ to be wearing his older trousers and those trousers _happened _to fall down as he was climbing out of said fountain…Was that really "public indecency" or simply an unfortunate accident?

Castle tended to believe the latter, though regrettably the members of the NYPD he encountered did not share that opinion. And, okay, maybe it was ill-advised for him to offer to sign a few (or a dozen) books for them to do with as they pleased in exchange for forgetting this whole incident, but how was he to know they'd start throwing around terms like "resisting arrest" and "attempted bribery?" After that, things went downhill quickly, which was why he presently sat on a stiff, straight-back wooden bench in the hallway of the Manhattan district court office as his five-hundred-dollar-plus-an-hour lawyer attempted to plead a deal on his behalf. Castle was hoping for his sentence to be reduced to time served, but seeing as he was only in custody from two a.m. until six forty-five when his lawyer arrived, he was advised not to remain optimistic about that particular prospect.

Truth be told, this was not his first scrape with the law and, quite honestly, it would probably not be the last. He tried to keep himself in check, especially for Alexis's benefit. The last thing he wanted to do was to set a horrible impression for his daughter. Then again, seeing as it felt more and more like she was the parent in their relationship, he doubted his occasional brushes with the law influenced her in any negative manner. Besides, it wasn't as though he was out at night robbing banks or conning people out of their money. He simply liked to have a good time and occasionally that kind of fun got out of hand and led to some misfortune.

He shifted on the bench with a wince (Why did it have to be so damned hard? Couldn't they afford cushions?) and rested his right elbow on the bench's arm. He scrolled absentmindedly thorough his phone with his right thumb. After checking his Twitter to see if he had any new tweets (four, but none were all that interesting), he scrolled through his apps to see find something to do as he waited. Just as he was internally debating on whether or not to waste more money on Candy Crush Saga or stick with the classic Angry Birds, the approaching sound of heel clicks drew his attention.

Castle skimmed his eyes over the reflective surface of the well-polished marble floor until he spotted the source of the noise: a pair of black stiletto heels approaching. His gaze traveled northward, over the shoes, past a slim ankle and toned calf and across the snug knee-length charcoal pencil skirt to the leather briefcase hanging at hip level. He needed to see no more to know it was a lawyer approaching. Normally, he wouldn't give a female lawyer a second glance, as he found them to be uptight and bossy (and not in the fun way), but he figured one with a bottom half as attractive as this one was worth the continued gaze.

He skimmed his eyes up her fitted charcoal blazer and cranberry blouse and noticed the tussled honey-brown locks falling in subtle curls around her shoulders. Intrigued, he lifted his eyes a few inches higher and that's when he felt it: the clench in his gut, the lightning bolt to his heart; he was captivated.

She approached, now just a dozen feet from him, with the confidence of a woman who knew her way around the courtroom and welcomed the challenge each new case began. Her face, though clearly displaying the serious thoughts in her mind, exhibited exquisite beauty through plump lips, defined cheekbones and gorgeous eyes accentuated with just a hint of makeup.

As she passed him, she glanced in his direction, and he felt all the air evaporate from his lungs. For just a brief moment, he thought I would never return. But then, she was gone, disappearing through the set of double doors at the end of the hall, and his breath returned. His mind, however, traveled with her out the door.

"Mr. Castle?"

The voice of his lawyer roused him from his state of near shock. He cleared his throat, stood, and pocketed his phone. "Ah, Branson, yes. Um," he glanced at the aging lawyer and then back towards the double doors, "you didn't happen to see that woman that just walked through here, did you?"

"The ADA?"

Castle's brows lifted with surprise. "She works for the District Attorney's office?"

"Yes, I believe her name is Beckett. Why?"

After taking mental note of the name, he shook his head. "Nothing; no reason. What did the judge say? Good news?"

Branson pursed his lips. "Well, no jail time if you consider that good news. There will be a fine, of course-"

"Which I will happily pay." _Especially if it gets me out of jail time_, he added to himself.

"-and they're willing to look the other way on the attempted bribery charges if you agree to do forty hours of community service-"

"Forty hours!"

"-which I told them you'd happily do," Branson informed him in a father-scolding-child tone. He could see Castle's rebuttal painted all over his face and sighed heavily. "It's forty hours in a soup kitchen—prison time would be much worse. Besides, we don't have to tell the press why you're there; just use it as a publicity opportunity."

Leave it to Black Pawn's lawyers to put a spin on everything, Castle thought to himself. "Fine," he agreed reluctantly.

"Very well," the lawyer said, shouldering his bag. "I'll find a nice place for you to volunteer for the next five Saturdays."

"Five Saturdays!"

"Yes. Five eight-hour shifts."

Castle groaned like a whiny toddler on the verge of a temper tantrum. The prospect of giving up the next five Saturdays was almost as unappealing as jail time—_almost._ "Can't I just…get it out of the way quicker? Like a bunch of weekdays? You can volunteer on a weekday, right?"

Branson huffed into his mustache. "I'll get back to you with the details."

"Thank you, Branson! I appreciate it!" Castle added with a nauseatingly sweet grin before exiting the courthouse, bound for home and his laptop, where he had every intention of Googling ADAs named Beckett.

* * *

As Kate Beckett left the courthouse that Wednesday afternoon, her mind was already focused on the next day's trial. The witness was lying, that much was clear, and she needed to find a way to crack him or, at the very least, trap him in his lie, but it would be easy. He was smart; she was smarter. Still, she enjoyed the challenge; the challenge got her out of bed every morning.

Making her way towards the exit, her gaze scanned absentmindedly across the hall when she spotted a familiar looking man sitting on one of the benches. Was that…Yes, yes it was. Famous—or, rather, infamous—novelist Richard Castle in the district court office. Interesting, but not shocking she thought to herself.

As she made her way down the front steps of the building to hail the nearest cab, she wondered if he had been arrested again. It was no secret he'd had a few brushes with the law in the past few years—it added to his playboy mystique…and to the sales of his books.

Shaking her head, she ducked into her cab. A great writer he may have been, but a great person? Probably not.


	2. Chapter 2

_I'm glad everyone enjoyed Chapter 1 - thank you for all the reviews!_

* * *

**Two**

Arriving home at his loft in southern Manhattan, Castle had every intention of making a B-line to his office, but he was interrupted by five-feet-five-inches of orange hair, crossed arms, and a disapproving stare identical to her mother's. "Alexis," he beamed, dropping a kiss down on her forehead. "How was school, Pumpkin?"

"Dad," she began, his sweet tone unable to sway her from her mission. "Hello?"

"I just said hi to you," he said with mild confusion plus an air of innocence.

She groaned loudly in that well-perfected fifteen-year-old girl way. "No, Dad. I haven't been sitting here not doing my homework for the past hour to have you come in and say hi to me! Are you going to jail or not?"

Castle's heart sunk in his chest as he looked down at the crystal blue eyes of his daughter. Ironically, it was not the potential for jail time that caused him to feel the most remorse about his behavior. It was this; it would always be this. He placed a hand gently on her shoulder and shook his head. "No, I will not be going to jail. Are you kidding? I can't believe you even thought that was a possibility."

"Well, you were arrested."

He shrugged his shoulders casually. "Everything's fine. Now go do your homework."

"As if you have to remind me!" she insisted in a flustered tone before hurrying up the stairs to her room.

Once she was gone, Castle walked directly into his office, located off the sitting room on the main floor. He sat down in his desk chair and reached for the lid on his laptop, but paused as his eyes turned back to the direction in which Alexis had disappeared. _Damn_, he thought to himself.

What was the matter with him? How could he forget that his moments of fun were destroying the person he loved most in the world? When it came right down to it, he was her only parent and he needed to start acting like it. True, if something terrible did happen to him, his mother would take care of Alexis, but he certainly did not need to help that scenario along by going out and drinking like a twenty-one-year-old fool and not the forty-year-old man he was.

With a long exhale, he flipped open the lid of his laptop and pressed the power button to wake it from its sleep. He rolled his neck to the right then left, cracked the knuckles on both his hands and poised his fingertips above the keyboard. He decided to first use any writers most important research tool: Google.

Into the search engine he typed "District Attorney Beckett" and then tapped the enter key. The first result was about a Steven Beckett, a district attorney of a city in the state of Oregon. Deciding it was best to narrow things down, he added "New York" to the end of his search. The first result that search yielded was an article entitled "Jimenez Wins Appeal" and was dated a few months prior.

Pursing the article, Castle found that Jimenez was originally convicted of murder, though there was no DNA evidence to confirm his actions. A defense attorney named Johanna Beckett took his case to the appeals court and won when further investigation did turn up DNA and that DNA did not match Mr. Jimenez. Intrigued, Castle opened a new Google window and typed in "Johanna Beckett" only to discover she was one of the founders of something called the Always Hope Foundation, a non-profit organization that specialized in overturning the convictions of accused individuals serving time for crimes they did not commit.

"Interesting," he commented to himself. With some more clicks around the Always Hope Foundation website, he was able to find an image depicting its three founding members: two men and a woman. Though the picture was captioned with its occupants, Castle did not need to read to confirm that Johanna Beckett was the mother of the ADA he saw that morning. True, he had only seen her once, but that was enough time to memorize every inch of her face and their resemblance was uncanny.

Even more intrigued, Castle went back to his original search window and continue to search for the captivating woman he saw earlier that day. A few more clicks through news articles led him to a piece promoting the new, fresh DA's office. With the article was a photo of the staff standing on the courthouse steps. At the left end of the back row, he saw her. True, the picture was grainy, but he recognized her easily enough. Scanning the article, he discovered her name: Katherine Beckett.

Leaning back in his chair, he skimmed his index finger and thumb over the edge of his chin. This was indeed very interesting, especially when it seemed that mother and daughter were solidly on opposite sides of the legal aisle. If it was even possible, that prospect made him even more interested in the young lawyer.

Pushing himself out of his chair, he grabbed his stress ball and began to pace his office, tossing the ball up and snatching it from the air as he did so. He could feel it—the wheels of his writing brain were turning. True, they were rusted and squeaky after not being used for…damn, almost a year, but they were turning again, which was a marked improvement over the prior few months.

As he paced, he caught a glimpse of the calendar hanging off the side of his desk. The last day in May was marked with a skull and crossbones (Or, as best a skull and crossbones as he could make with his approximately zero artistic talent. Truthfully, it looked more like a lumpy rock sitting atop a pair of sticks.), which meant he had less than three weeks to turn in the first chapter of his new book to his publisher or he would no longer be allowed to call himself Best-Selling Author Richard Castle.

With a sigh, he spun on his heel and tossed the ball again. Despite his irritation with the tight deadline, he could not be angry with his publishers. They, after all, were just trying to make money and, to be perfectly fair, they had been very generous after that nasty business with the copy-cat killer not quite half a year earlier. A six month deadline extension was practically unheard of from Black Pawn. Then again, since he was one of their top sellers, what were they going to do? He had played up the "emotionally traumatized" act pretty well.

Still, he needed an idea—a fantastic idea. A Derrick-Storm-level idea. Storm had been good. Storm had sold millions of books. Storm had been exciting to write…at least, until he wasn't. But this idea? Oh, he could feel it. He could taste the excitement, the thrill, but it wasn't ready. Not quite yet. He needed more—he needed to know more. And, he knew of only one fool-proof way of collecting that information.


	3. Chapter 3

**Three**

If Kate Beckett was forced to describe herself in one word, that word would probably be workaholic and she was completely alright with that. The harder she worked, the more hours she dedicated, the more justice she could bring to victim's families. That was the exact reason she was the first one in the office every morning, giant cup of coffee in hand, and the last one to leave each night. She didn't even view that as a sacrifice. Instead, it was a duty; a privilege.

Once, many years ago, she had been on the other side. She was part of a victim's family searching for justice. And maybe….well, maybe if things had gone differently, she would not be the most dedicated and driven ADA on the team, but things hadn't and she was. She couldn't change the past, but she could most assuredly affect the future.

That particular Wednesday morning began no differently than any other. By nine am she was through the oversized travel mug of coffee she'd brought from home and had moved on to a large cup of the office-provided brew. It wasn't the greatest, but with a heavy pour of hazelnut creamer, it was palatable enough.

Glancing at the clock on the corner of her laptop screen, she realized she needed to begin organizing her notes lest she be late for her meeting in midtown at ten. Just as she slid her laptop into its protective case, her desk phone rang. Seeing it was the building's receptionist, she picked the receiver up and tucked it between her ear and her shoulder.

"Ms. Beckett? There is a Richard Castle here to see you. He doesn't have an appointment but-"

"Richard Castle?" Kate said, grabbing the receiver and standing up a little straighter. "The writer?"

"Yes ma'am. He says—what's that?" When the receptionist stopped speaking, Kate could hear a muffled male voice in the background. "He says it will only take a few minutes and totally be worth your while."

Kate rolled he eyes at the second half of the message. In her experience, the phrase "worth your while" had less than a 5% possibility of being true. Still, she could not help but be intrigued that she was in such close proximity to the author for the second time in just a few days. "Alright," she agreed with a sigh. "Send him up."

As she continued to organize her things for her meeting, she could not help but wonder what the infamous Richard Castle wanted to discuss with her. As a public figure, his infamy had only grown over the prior six months thanks to the one-two-punch of him releasing his latest book, in which he gruesomely killed off the main character, and the arrest of a copy-cat murderer, recreating scenes from his books happened all within one week of each other. Granted, the later was not his fault, nor was it public knowledge. She only knew of it due to her connections with the police department. Due to insufficient evidence, the suspect they'd arrested had been let go and never formally charged. She often wondered if things would have ended differently had she been on the case.

A knock at her office door roused her from her thoughts. She glanced up to see the beaming face of Richard Castle poking in her half-open doorway. "Come in, Mr. Castle," she said formally before stepping around her desk and extending her hand.

"Ms. Beckett," he smiled warmly, closing his hand around hers. Kate was almost startled by the feeling of their hands pressing together, she glanced down at their union and then shook her head, shrugging off the bizarre feeling. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

In her well-perfected all-business manner, she gestured for him to sit on one of her guest chairs. She, in turn, sat against the front corner of her desk and clasped her hands in front of her. "So, Mr. Castle, what can I do for you today?"

He settled back in his chair, crossed one leg over the other and rested his clasped fingers atop of his knee. With a proud-as-a-peacock smile, he stat up straighter in the chair. "Ms. Beckett, I don't know if you're aware, but I am the author of over a dozen best-selling novels. Most recently I-"

"Mr. Castle, I am well aware of who you and Derrick Storm are; please cut to the chase." She had no intention of sitting idly by as he blew plumes smoke in her face, particularly not when he was going to make her late for a meeting.

"Ah," he beamed, "so you're a fan; perfect!"

Resisting the slap the proud smirk off his face, she said through practically gritted teeth, "Mr. Castle I am very busy and-"

"Right, right," he said, making a direct hand gesture. "To the chase. How would you like the opportunity to assist me in developing my next best-selling character?"

She arched an eyebrow at him. "Help you how?"

He slid to the edge of his seat and held both his hands out in front of him, fingers splayed. "Picture this—a sexy and savvy New York District Attorney. She's sharp. She's determined. She's hell bent on winning every case. Ah, but—but!" he held up one index finger. "Even the best can't win them all. When she loses a case, she puts on a dark mask and kills the ones she couldn't convict, using her legal knowledge to make each and every death appear like an accident, thus avoiding any suspicion of murder."

Castle's grin stretched from ear-to-ear as he slid back in his seat. Okay, so the plot outline was still a bit rough, but it still smelled of best-seller. He was almost too wrapped up in his own brilliance to notice the scathing expression crossing her face. "What?" he said finally.

"Mr. Castle, have you been using your Netflix to watch a little too much Dexter recently?"

"Wha-no. I don't understand your reference."

With a groan she stood up and walked back around her desk. "I'm not interested. Thank you for stopping by."

"Wait just a moment," he said, standing. Okay, so his first attempt hadn't worked so well, but he had faced opposition before. My god, how many times had he been rejected by the CIA before he'd been allowed to research Storm? The ADA could not be as strict as them. "I just need to shadow you or a week or two—no big deal."

Her jaw fell open and her cheeks began to turn the shade of heated iron. "No big deal!? No big deal!?"

My god, he thought, how did fury make her even hotter? Was it even possible for his lust for her as his next character to grow at this point? She stood behind her desk, resting both hands firmly on the surface, causing the sleeves of her jacket to rise. He looked down at her wrist and spotted that the watch she wore was one clearly designed for a man. Interesting.

"Mr. Castle," she began, "first, let me make it clear that I would not let you shadow me if I absolutely loved your book idea, but what on earth would make you think I would let you shadow me when the character you'll be basing off me will be _a serial killer_?"

"I'm not saying _you're_ a serial killer," he clarified.

She scoffed. "Oh well thank you; I'm flattered."

"Okay, okay—no serial killer," he said quickly. It wasn't as though he was in love with that plot point anyway; it felt a bit contrived. "The character will just be a savvy DA who…" His enthusiasm deflated as he realized he didn't have a good way to complete that sentence. Ever determined, he added "I'll find a better hook—I'll keep working on it!"

Slipping the last of her things into her laptop case, she shouldered the item and walked around to the other side of her desk. "I'm sorry Mr. Castle; I cannot help you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a meeting with a client."

"Can I come?" he asked wistfully.

Not bothering to hide her irritation, she simply said, "Goodbye," and then walked away, without ever looking back.

Left alone in her office, he used his last few moments to observe what he hadn't been able to see with her distinguished face distracting his gaze. The decorations were sparse at best, with the one large bookcase in the room filed with thick, darkly bound books, which he assumed to be law journals and other books of the legal nature. Her desk mainly contained desk-related things: stapler, tape dispenser, a cup filled with pens and highlighters.

In the entire office, he found only one photo, which sat on the corner of the desk. He picked it up and examined it, smiling immediately. If he had to guess, it was taken on the day she graduated law school. The photo was of three people standing in front of a cluster of trees. The young lawyer was in the center holding a picture frame containing a degree-looking document, her mother to her right and, using his keen powers of deduction, he assumed the man in the wheelchair on her left to be her father.

Upon closer examination, he found her mother's expression to be peculiar. Having never met the woman, it was difficult to tell, but if he had to guess he would have said her smile was forced, not genuine. It made sense, he supposed. If her mother was a defense attorney determined to overturn wrongful convictions, it would stand to reason that she was displeased her daughter would be the one convicting them. "Curiouser and curiouser, Ms. Beckett," he said aloud before replacing the photo on the desk and leaving the office. Unfortunately, more research would need to wait; he had an appointment at a soup kitchen.


	4. Chapter 4

**Four**

"Ricky Castle! How long as it been? Too long, obviously!"

"Robbie, my man," Castle grinned as he gripped the hand of the New York City mayor and shook it firmly. "It has been too long."

"Seriously," the mayor said, returning to his side of the desk and gesturing for Castle to sit. "How long hast it been? Nine months since that benefit I saw you at?"

Castle bobbed his head in acknowledgment.

"Well how've you been? I was sorry to hear about that nasty business with that Castle copycat killer."

Castle arched his eyebrows. "You heard about that?"

"Ricky," the man said, holding his arms out. "I'm the mayor."

Castle smiled back. "Yes, you are, Sir, and a damn good one at that." Okay, so he was laying it on a little thick—well, really thick—but the mayor was doing him a _huge_ favor, so a little ego stroking was warranted.

He had met Mayor Robert Wilton during his first campaign to become mayor of the greatest city in the world. Wilton had invited the writer to his home to flatter him into donating to his complain and the two had formed an odd "if you scratch my back, I'll scratch yours" friendship ever since. Mostly, it was a lot of fake smiles and donations-in-exchange-for-favors, but it worked for them, so who was he to complain?

"So, Ricky, I'm dying to hear about your upcoming novel. Another mystery series?" Walton asked, leaning back in his chair.

"Ah, well, not quite. No, the main character in this one is Patience Thorne—a young, ADA in the city driven to become a lawyer after her father's murderer was never caught. She spends her evenings pouring through facts, searching for eyewitness, looking for anything, really, that could lead to a clue, but the case is over ten years old; it's so cold its glacial."

The mayor nodded, pressing both his index fingers to the tip of his nose. "Go on."

"Well," he smiled, "I can't give too much away, now can I? But the story would, in part, be about Patience's life and the cases she's working on."

"Which is why you wanted to have this meeting today. Am I correct?"

Castle beamed. "You know me well, Sir."

No sooner had the words left his lips, than the mayor's desk phone chirped and the voice of his secretary could be heard. "Sir, ADA Beckett is here."

The mayor pressed a button on the phone. "Send her in please." He flashed Castle a grin before standing and walking towards the door to greet his guest.

When she entered, wearing that tailored grey pantsuit that fit her so well, Castle felt his breath hitch in his chest. Today, her hair was knotted in a tight bun at the nape of her neck, leaving full view of her long elegant neck and strong jawline. Swallowing hard, Castle wiped his palms against his thighs and stood.

"Ms. Beckett. Thank you so much for coming," the mayor said, shaking her hand warmly.

"Of course, Sir. As always anything you…" her voice drifted off when her gaze fell upon the other man standing in the room. "Mr. Castle."

Castle suppressed a smirk at her tone. Her poker face had obviously been well perfected from days in front of a jury. If she was furious (and she very well may have been) she did not let it show. She could not, however, hide the deflation in her voice.

"You two know each other? Excellent." The mayor smiled and gestured for his latest guest to sit across from him. Castle made a dramatic hand gesture towards the seat before sitting down in the remaining chair. She kept her eyes on him until the last moment when she sat and faced the mayor.

"Yes, we've, ah, met before," Kate said, glancing back towards the writer.

Castle smiled. Of course he hadn't told the mayor about his previous encounter (and rejection) from the lovely ADA. He was no idiot. He pitched the idea of shadowing a female ADA to the mayor and allowed him to bring up Beckett's name (most likely by way of someone on his staff—but that wasn't the point). Everything was going just as he planned it.

"Great, great. Katherine—may I call you Katherine?" Wilton asked.

"It's Kate, actually," she corrected politely.

"Ah, Kate, of course. Kate I was wondering if you could do me a favor?"

She cleared her throat and glanced at Castle. "A favor, Sir?"

"Yes, you see Mr. Castle here is writing a new book and his lead character is going to be a female ADA, just like you Kate."

"Is that so?" she said, looking sideways at Castle. He smiled; from her tone, he almost believed she'd never heard that before.

"And Kate, you know the DA's office could always do with some good press. What better way than to have the New York District Attorney's office the focus of Richard Castle's next novel?" The mayor beamed at her.

She smiled back and shrugged her shoulders. "I can't think of another way."

"Wonderful! So you won't mind if Ricky shadows you? Just for a little while, you know, to get the ropes and such?" the mayor asked as he playfully wiggled his head and shrugged his shoulders to entice her into the deal.

"Well," she said, looking directly at Castle as she spoke. "How could I possibly say no to that?"

* * *

Livid. She was livid as she left the mayor's office, her new shadow trailing along behind her. Of all the sneaky, underhanded moves. She was going to kill him. She was absolutely going to kill him.

"So, Kate," he began gleefully, "I was thinking that-"

She whipped around so fast he stopped dead in his tracks, wearing a startled expression. She grabbed the lapels of his suit jacket and pulled him into the nearest secluded hallway. Shoving him up against the wall, she stood barely a foot from him and stabbed her index finger in his direction. "Listen to me, Mr. Castle. I know you probably think you're very clever, using the mayor to twist my arm into allowing you to shadow me. You're probably very proud of yourself right now, but you better listen and listen good. These are my cases; this is my career and if you screw anything up so help me God I will-"

"Woah," he jumped in, holding his hands up in front of him, palms facing out. "I think we got off on the wrong foot here, Kate. I have no intention of messing anything up for you. Quite the opposite in fact. My only intention is to be a silent observer."

She gave him a terse smile before walking away. Somehow, she seriously doubted that he would be silent in any capacity as all evidence of him that she'd collected thus far proved quite the contrary. "So," she said, glancing behind her to make sure he was keeping up. "Just how long will this shadow thing go on?"

"Oh," he said casually, "a month or two."

She stopped dead again and glared daggers at him. "A month or two?! What happened to two weeks?"

"Well, Patience Thorne is proving to be a bit more complicated than I originally imagined."

She folded her arms and arched an eyebrow at her. "Patience Thorne?"

He grinned and nodded. "Yeah that's her name. Like it?"

She pursed her lips. "Two weeks."

"Six weeks," he countered. "Or we can go back and chat with the mayor again if you'd like?"

"Fine," she snapped, the loathing boiling in her gut. "Six weeks and not a second longer. Oh, and this character better not be a damned serial killer."

"Don't worry; she's not. I'm still working out all the details though. Say, you don't have a sister, do you?"

"I'm an only child," she replied. "Why?"

"No reason."

"No, why Castle?" she demanded.

"Chill out! I was just thinking about giving Patience a sister. It's actually better that way—wouldn't want her to be _too_ much like you."

Rolling her eyes, she continued on her path towards the exit; he scurried after her. "So where are we going?"

Again, she stopped to face him. "We are going nowhere. I have too much left to do this week and not nearly enough time to get it done. I'll be in court Monday morning at nine a.m." She raised her left hand to tick off her instructions for him as she listed them. "Don't be late. Don't show up hung over. And dress appropriately. Or, I'll have the judge hold you in contempt." She smiled proudly for the first time that day.

He beamed at her. "Don't worry Kate; you won't even know I'm there."

She cocked her head to the side. "Somehow, I doubt that. See you Monday, Mr. Castle."


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: I'm glad everyone is enjoying the this story. Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to review! :)_

* * *

**Five**

Monday morning, Richard Castle arrived at the courthouse promptly at ten to nine. Typically, he was a "I'll get there when I get there" type of guy, but that particular morning he was determined to impress the all-work-no-play ADA. He knew he had upset her by doing what he did to shadow her, so having to set and alarm and actually get up when it went off (on a Monday morning!) was a worthwhile exchange in order to win her over. And win her over he would; of that, he was certain.

Castle spent the majority of his weekend becoming an expert on two things: her life and the New York City legal system (or, at least as expert as one could become using an internet connection). Figuring out the legal system was easy enough but getting the down and dirty details of the beautiful lawyer took a bit more effort.

He began researching Kate by tracing back her history using the facts he knew: her name was Katherine Beckett and her law degree was from Stanford University. He guessed her to be around the age of thirty, and assuming she went directly to law school after undergrad, that meant she had graduated from Stanford Law approximately five years prior. It took several hours of searching, but he finally found her name referenced in a newspaper article in the _Stanford Daily_ about all the Summa Cum Lade graduates from seven years earlier.

After searching through her professional history for several hours, Castle turned back to her family life. He searched for the last name Beckett in all newspaper articles from the _Times_ and _Ledger_ over the prior decade. In doing so, he found something most unexpected.

Almost ten years ago to the day, a fifty-year-old man named James Beckett was struck in a crosswalk near Washington Square in the middle of the night. According to the article, the man, a law professor at NYU, had fallen asleep at his desk. When he awoke at two a.m., he left his office and was struck just a block away.

At that hour of the night, there had been no witnesses. Police were able to find the car that struck the man using surveillance and traffic cameras, but were unable to convict the suspected driver because of insufficient evidence. According to the initial articles, the man was in critical condition, but then upgraded to stable condition.

Using his writer's brain, Castle was able to fill in the rest of the story. Kate's father had been struck by a car and obviously sustained serious enough injury to confine him to a wheelchair. The perpetrators were not convicted thus driving Kate into her chosen career path of prosecutorial law.

Despite being convinced he'd figured her out, Castle was not prepared to let his card's show, particularly not on his first day observing her. He was occasionally wrong in his observations (though, when he was wrong the last time, he could not remember) so he wanted to wait and see if perhaps more light could be shed on the mysterious ADA.

Strolling in to Courtroom C, Castle held his head high. He glanced around the room and saw only a half dozen seats filled in the gallery area. On the other side of the divider wall, he spotted Kate and sitting beside a man in a suit. Across the aisle from them sat a pale man in an obviously cheap suit next to a squirrely looking even paler man in an even cheaper suit. Castle assumed these people to be the defendant and his court-appointed lawyer.

With all the confidence he possessed as a multi-millionaire, Castle approached the front of the courtroom and stepped through the swinging door separating the gallery from the more official area of the courtroom. "Good morning, Kate," he said politely.

She did a double take in his direction and then stood quickly, almost as though she'd forgotten he'd be arriving that morning (or perhaps that she was hoping he'd conveniently forget about it). "C-Castle," she stammered. "What are you doing here?"

"You told me not to be late," he explained. "So, I'll just-"

He tried to slide past her to the empty seat beside her male companion, but she placed her hand against his bicep to stop him. "No you won't. You sit over there." She pointed to the front row of the gallery seating.

Castle frowned. "But-"

"No buts. This area is for officials of the court only. Go," she said, waving him away when he did not move.

Pursing his lips together in irritation, Castle took the seat directly behind her in the gallery. Unbelievable, he thought to himself. How was he supposed to observe her as well when he wasn't up close and in all the action?

"Hey, Kate. Psst, Kate," he hissed at her in not-so-hushed tones.

Her head whipped around and glared at him. "What did I tell you about your behavior in this court room?" she scolded in the way a mother would chastise a misbehaving child on a long road trip.

Before she could tell him she was going to turn this courtroom around if he didn't stay quiet, he said quickly, "I just want to know what this case is about. Murder? Robbery?"

"Bank fraud," she explained simply.

"You go to a big courtroom like this for bank fraud?" he asked more to himself than anything else.

"When its for over half a million dollars, yes. Now shhh!" she hissed, just as the judge entered the courtroom.

Obeying her request (mostly because he did not wish to be thrown out of the courtroom on his first day) he pulled his notepad and pen from the breast pocket of his coat, flipped to a new page, and poised his pen to write down notes as they came to him. He needed to accurately write Patience in front of the court, Patience in front of the jury, and Patience interacting with the other lawyers on her team. One of whom, at this early stage in the novel, he thought may become her lover.

Though he had every intention of taking diligent notes, he found himself staring slack-jawed at Kate every time it was her turn to present. She was the picture of strength and elegance. Her well-tailored black suit, the top half of her hair combed back from her face and secured with invisible pins, even the clear polish on her manicured nails exuded professionalism. When she spoke, she commanded the attention of every eye in the room. She did not yell or speak harshly, but still received the focus of everyone's gaze. It was as though she waved a magic wand, putting everyone in a thirty foot radius under the same spell.

The more he watched, the more he liked. He watched her question the defendant directly, taking great care to phrase her questions, and waiting several moments after the man's answer to formulate her next query. He immediately wondered how different she would act if a more violent offender was on the stand. If she would be the lawyer pushing them to their breaking point; pushing them to confess on the spot.

He had a brief vision of what she would be like in the bedroom, taking control and demanding the attention she deserved. Cursing himself, he poised his pen to paper once more. _Notes, Castle_, he chastised himself, _not sexual fantasies_.

Distracted by his daydream, Castle was startled to see Kate back at the long table in front of him, packing up her bags. He glanced to the other side of the courtroom and saw the public defender whispering towards the defendant. At the front of the courtroom, he spotted the judge stepping down and disappearing through the door behind him. "Wait, what happened?" he asked aloud.

"Did you fall asleep?" she asked with a smirk. He gave her an unappreciative look. "The defendant decided to take the plea deal we offered him."

"Oh," he said, his shoulders sagging. "So…this case is over?"

She gave him a soft smile. "Don't worry, Castle; there are plenty more. In fact, why don't you go with Donovan? I have to stay here and write up the plea, but Donovan is going to be working on our case for later in the week."

"But, the deal was that I shadow _you_," he pointed out.

"And this is _my_ case, Donovan is just helping me with it," she countered.

Hearing her Lawyer-Beckett-is-not-to-be-messed-with tone, he begrudgingly agreed, though he was going to need to clarify their deal if he was brushed off too many more times.


	6. Chapter 6

**Six**

After spending the majority of Monday afternoon with Donovan, Castle was thankful that he had previously booked Tuesday as his last volunteer day, completing his mandatory sentence after the fountain incident. When he'd scrubbed his last pot, he grabbed a cab and headed directly to Kate's office; they needed to have a chat.

He was not an unreasonable man. He understood that shadowing Kate did not mean he was able to spend every second of every day with her. As much as he would have like that, he also understood it was not a realistic dream. Though it irked him at first, he also decided he was open to the idea of receiving ADA insight from some of her coworkers. That was, until he spent several hours with Donovan.

Donovan Clark was not an interesting man. In fact, whatever the polar opposite of interesting was perfectly defined Donovan. Donovan had the office next to Kate. Donovan owned every law journal every published. Donovan loved the law more than any sane human ever should. And, most importantly, Donovan did not like being observed. Nor did he like having any pencils (or pens, or highlighters, or pictures of his cats) disturbed or moved on his desk. Evidently, moving a photo of Captain Whiskers offset the Earth's rotational axis (or so Castle assumed from Donovan's over-the-top reaction).

Though it was nearly quarter to eight in the evening, Castle had a suspicion that the ever-dedicated lawyer would be at her desk. His suspicion was confirmed when he saw the light pouring from her office the moment he stepped off the elevator. He strode towards the door and barely tapped his knuckle against the frame twice before stepping inside.

She looked up, startled. "C-Castle? What are you doing here?"

"Well, I—you're wearing glasses," he observed when she looked up and he was able to see the dark-rimmed frames resting on the bridge of her nose. The glasses combined with the messy knot of hair at the crown of her head gave her a very "student cramming for finals" look.

"Oh, ah, yes," she said, tapping the bottom of the frame to push it higher on her nose. "My eyes just weren't having any more of the contacts today; I'm too tired."

He smiled slowly as he approached her desk in a deliberately swaggered fashion. "Well, if you're looking for a good night's rest, I'm sure that I could-"

"What do you want Castle?" she interrupted, perturbed.

"Sorry I just came to-"

"Do you," she interrupted him again as her nose wrinkled. "Do you smell like fish?"

"Ah," he cringed and took a step away from her desk. "Sorry about that. It was my last night volunteering at the soup kitchen."

She arched her brows at him. "You volunteer?"

"It was community service from my last arrest," He confessed.

"There is is…" She nodded; she didn't think he was altruistic enough to volunteer from the goodness of his heart.

"Yeah and tonight's meal was fish soup—but seriously don't ask what kind of fish it was. I don't even think they knew. They probably got it from the Hudson or something," he added with a shiver.

Turning back to the papers in front of her she said, "Sounds delicious. Was there something you wanted?"

"Yes," he said, sitting down in one of her guest chair. "Please don't have me shadow Donovan again."

She glanced up at him. "Why? He's very thorough."

"That's one word for it. It's just—he's so boring…and I don't think he liked me!"

She tilted her head to the side and gave him a patronizing sigh. "Awww!"

He narrowed his eyes at her. "I'm serious."

"This may come as a surprise to you, Mr. Castle, but no everyone is as in love with you as much as you are with yourself."

"Funny," he commented. "And just when I came here to give you some insight."

"Insight?"

"Yes, into your case."

Kate set down her pen and leaned back in her chair. "Oh this ought to be good."

Castle scooted to the edge of his seat and rested his forearms against her desk. "Okay, so the robbery case Donovan showed me. I was watching those interview tapes and I was thinking that one guy's alibi is really flimsy. The one whose friend saw him at a nail salon owned by his cousin allegedly at the same time as the robbery."

"Yeah, so?"

"Well how many people with neck tattoos do you know that frequent nail salons?"

"None. The alibi is obviously fabricated."

"Yes, but your witness to that is equally flimsy; you know that," he pointed out. "From what I've seen, Mr. Neck Tattoos is a bit of a loose cannon. I bet you can rile him up and throw him off his game."

"Rile him up?" she asked evenly.

He leaned back in his seat. "Yeah just start throwing a bunch of nail salon-y terms at him—confuse him. Maybe he'll crack."

Again, she repeated him. "Nail salon-y terms?"

"Yeah, if you don't know any, you can call my ex-wife. Considering how much of my money she spent getting her dragon nails done every week, I'm sure she knows a term or two."

Intrigued on more than one point, Kate wasn't sure which to react upon first. She decided upon the most curious. "Dragon nails?"

He nodded. "Yeah. Sharp. Pointy. Hurt real bad when she clawed them into my back." He winced, presumably at the memory.

She swallowed hard. "Thanks for the visual." After letting a beat go by, she moved on to her next point of curiosity. "So…you have an ex-wife?"

"Two, actually."

She chuckled inwardly. "Why doesn't that surprise me?"

"I have a daughter, too," he informed her.

"Really? How often do you see her?"

"Daily; she lives with me."

Kate's eyes widened. She had to admit, she did not expect that answer, not in the least. Given what she knew about him, she would have pegged him as someone who shirked responsibility at any given opportunity. Then again, she supposed, what she knew about him was merely superficially gleaned from reports of him in the tabloids or in the celebrity sections of the New York papers.

"I have full custody. My first ex, Meredith, wasn't, ah, prepared for the task of motherhood."

Feeling even guiltier for her prior assumption, Kate lowered her gaze to her desk. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"Well, at least you've learned your lesson."

She looked up. "Lesson?"

"Don't judge a book by its cover, Ms. Beckett. I still might surprise you."

Unable to resist, she rolled her eyes at his cheeky grin. "I'm sure. Now if you don't mind, I've got a lot more work to do here."

He stood, raising his hands in front of him. "Say no more. You have a good evening, Kate."

She merely nodded at him and watched as he left thinking that she was going to be surprised, alright. Surprised if he did not drive her completely insane during their time together. Only five weeks and five days to go!


	7. Chapter 7

**Seven**

Castle could hardly believe when he was already most of the way through his second week of observing the young ADA. Every day he spent with her was fascinating. He felt as though he should be filming his life so that he was able to better capture every insight, every moment. Scribbling in his notebook was hardly a sufficient way to gather all his thoughts and it was most certainly not the neatest way. At the end of each night, he was lucky if a little more than half his writings were decipherable.

That particular Thursday morning he and Kate were on their way downtown to meet with some detectives working on closing a double murder case. When they arrived at the NYPD twelfth precinct, Kate led the way inside and up to the third floor. There, she was met by two detectives. From the way they greeted her, it was obvious this was not their first case together.

"Ryan, Esposito, this is Richard Castle. He's, ah, observing me for his novels," she confessed rather reluctantly.

Castle shook the hand of the shorter man in the three piece suit warmly. When he turned in the direction of the Hispanic man wearing a leather jacket, he was met with immediate skepticism. "You're letting him observe you, Beckett? Really?" Esposito asked as he roughly shook the writer's hand.

"Yeah, ah," Kate tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "It's a long story."

"No, it's a great story! Kate generously allowed me to shadow her since I'm basing my next character on her life," Castle explained with a grin.

"Not on my life!" She corrected quickly. "His next character is a female ADA—that's where the similarities end."

Castle smiled knowingly from her to the skeptical Esposito, who cleared his throat. "Uh huh. Well, you want to chat about storybook characters or our latest homicide?"

"Homicide," she said almost pleadingly. Then, she allowed the two detectives to lead the way into their bullpen and directly to what she'd come to know as the "Murder Board" or the white board on which they pinned their suspect and crime scene photos as well as scribbled out their notes and timelines.

"Ohh I used to have one of these!" Castle proclaimed, walking directly up to the board. "I used it to outline my novel notes."

"Yo writer boy," Esposito snapped. "Don't touch the merchandise, okay?"

Castle made a large gesture of holding his hands up, palms facing out so he would not be accidentally accused of touching the board. "I'm just looking."

With an annoyed "Hmph" under his breath, Esposito turned to Kate. "So we've got this-"

"Is he your main suspect?" Castle asked, pointing to a mug shot labeled Jonathan Mendel towards the top center of the board.

"What's it to you?" Esposito snapped.

"Uh yes," Ryan interrupted, stepping forward. "In addition to having a prior conviction for assault, Mr. Mendel was seen in the same area of the victim's apartment for the first strangling on the morning of the 15th."

"Well," Castle began, pointing at the picture, "this man couldn't have done it."

Esposito glanced at Kate with a disbelieving expression before folding his arms over his chest and looking back to Castle. "And how do you know that?"

"This girl. She was strangled, right?" he asked, pointing to the picture labeled "Victim 1 – Hannah Clay." Her manner of death was obvious with the distinct purple bruising on either side of her neck in the crime scene photo. "You can clearly see the two handprints here and here, but this guy could not have made those marks?"

"Why not?" Ryan asked.

"Because," Castle said, going back to the picture of Mendel, "look at how he's holding the name placard in this mug shot. He's holding it normally with his left hand, but look at his right. He's just grasping it with his index finger and thumb. How many thugs do you know that hold a sign like they're at afternoon tea at Buckingham palace." He demonstrated picking up an invisible teacup in a posh pinky-out manner.

Esposito blinked at him. "He's just holding a sign."

"Where is he now?" Kate chimed in.

"Unis are bringing him in," Ryan answered.

"Well, mark my words—there's something wrong with his right hand and he wouldn't have had the grip strength to leave those finger marks."

Having heard enough of his observations, Ryan and Esposito walked away. If Castle was not mistaken, he believed he heard Esposito growl as he did so. After Kate's chat with them, she returned to Castle's side. "Boy, they're friendly," he commented sarcastically.

She shook her head with a soft smile. "Nah, they just don't like outsiders."

"They seem to like you," he observed.

"I work at the DA's office; we have to work together. They tolerate me."

Castle nodded. "I you ask me, that Esposito guy has got a thing for you."

Kate let out an unintentional laugh. "I don't think so."

"He does."

Shaking her head, she led the way back to the elevator and punched the "down" button. "Well, this concludes today's field trip. I hope you enjoyed your first trip to a police station during which you weren't being arrested."

Making a face at her smart-alecky comment, he said, "Actually, I did. And I want to thank you for the past two weeks. I know this isn't what you wanted, but you've been very helpful and this experience has been very…eye opening."

She chuckled. "Glad you're enjoying yourself."

"How about you come to dinner at my place tonight?"

She glanced over at him, noticeably surprised before saying quickly, "Uh, no."

"C'mon," he enticed.

"No."

"Yes, please. It's the least I can do to pay you back for any inconveniences I've caused you. Please. One meal. Free food," he said in an attempt to not give her any reasons to say no again.

She raised a suspicious eyebrow at him. "Are you going to take no for an answer?"

He grinned. "What do you think?"

With a heavy sigh she agreed. "Fine."

With his expression looking more and more like he was the cat that got the cream he said, "Excellent. See you at seven; I'll text you the address."


	8. Chapter 8

**Eight**

When Kate arrived at Castle's high-rise loft that evening, she cursed herself for letting him twist her arm into a dinner engagement. Wasn't it bad enough she had to put up with his observations during daylight hours? Why did she feel the need to subject herself to him and his irritating attempts at charm during the evening as well? Besides, this dinner meant she left the office uncharacteristically early, which meant more work the following day.

Against her better judgment, she rapped on the door and waited patiently for an answer. Not a minute later, a bright-blue-eyed, orange-haired young girl answered the door. "Hi!" she proclaimed. "You must be Ms. Beckett. C'mon in."

Kate stepped cautiously across the threshold and gazed at the girl he presumed to be Castle's daughter. She guessed the girl to be around fifteen or sixteen and for a brief moment she felt pity towards her. She could only imagine how mortified she would have been if a man like Castle had been her father when she was sixteen. "You must be Castle's daughter."

"Alexis," the girl smiled.

"And you can call me Kate," she said, mirroring the girl's expression.

Alexis led the way into the kitchen, where Kate was surprised to encounter another woman with blue eyes and orange hair only she was significantly older. "Well hello," the elder woman greeted her with a warm smile. She set down her wine glass and immediately pulled her into a warm hug. "I'm Martha Rodgers—Richard's mother. You must be the ADA we've heard all about."

"Kate Beckett," she said with a nod as the elder woman release her from the hug. "Pleasure to meet you. Is Cas-Richard here?"

"Oh yes, he's just finishing up a phone call in the office. Can I get you some wine?"

"Please," Kate said immediately. She wistfully thought of asking for two glasses of wine—one for each hand—fearing it would be the only thing getting her through the dinner. Too bad that was a socially unacceptable request.

"Kate!" Castle's filled the apartment from behind her and she spun to face him, for the first time actually observing the interior of the loft. It was well furnished and decorated with an eclectic style and mixture of many different art pieces. As a divider wall between the main sitting area and the office he was exiting stood a large floor-to-ceiling bookcase positively packed with volumes of varying sizes.

"You made it!" He swooped in and greeted her with a kiss on the cheek before she had the chance to back away. With both her hands clasping her wine glass, she was defenseless against such an act. "Great; now we can eat."

"Richard has created his most infamous meal for you, my dear," Martha told her before leading her to the pre-set table.

"Infamous?" Kate asked as notable trepidation crept over her.

"Yes, Pasta a-la-Castle," Castle said with dramatic flair.

"Don't worry," Alexis said, leaning in Kate's direction and whispering. "It's just spaghetti and meat sauce."

"Sounds great," Kate said, flashing the girl an appreciative look. After filling half her plate with salad and the rest with Castle's pasta concoction, Kate could not resist trying the later first. Much to her pleasant surprise, it was quite delicious. "Wow, Castle, I didn't realize you were a cook."

"Oh Dad does almost all of our cooking," Alexis informed her proudly.

Kate raised her brows in shock. "Really?"

"I do so out of necessity," he said factually. "It was either that or risk my young daughter's life nightly on what may or may not be a thoroughly cooked pork chop." He added with a pointed look towards the eldest woman at the table.

"One time and you're branded for life," Martha insisted. "But, to be honest, I was not blessed with the gift of domesticity. My home is on the stage," she added with a dramatic flip of her hand.

Kate glanced to Castle and saw him rolling his eyes. "Oh, Martha, you're an actress? Have you been in anything I might have seen?"

Castle snorted with laughter. "Not unless your parents took you to off-off-off Broadway shows while you were still in-utero."

Martha gave him a pointed look and then smiled at Kate. "Despite his lack of tact, my son does have a point. It has been several decades since I've had a starring role, but the auditions never stop! In fact, I'm thinking of writing something myself—perhaps a one woman show."

Kate smiled at Castle. "You could help her with that."

A very serious expression cross his face and he hissed, "Don't encourage her!"

Kate chuckled and turned back to her salad. A few moments later she looked up and said, "Oh Castle I almost forgot—you were right."

He set down his fork and smiled proudly. "Of course I was. About what?"

"The suspect from the strangling—you know, that double murder we saw at the twelfth today?" she asked; he nodded. "His right wrist was crushed in an industrial accident about five years ago. He barely has the use of any of the fingers on his right hand; he couldn't have killed that girl."

"YES!" Castle cheered, high fiving his daughter across the table.

"Way to go, Dad!" she beamed.

"Yes, that was a very good observation," Kate admitted.

Castle turned to her with an impossibly large smile. "Why, Ms. Beckett, do I detect…admiration?"

Her brows narrowed. "Don't push it, Castle." She watched as he picked his fork back up and continued eating. It was only then she smiled to herself.

Truth be told, she had been _very_ impressed with his observation. She would have never picked up on such a subtle, unique element to the suspect's mug shot, especially not after just a minute of looking at it. True, she was not a trained homicide detective, but neither was he. It was, perhaps for the first time since officially meeting him, she saw why he was so good at telling mysteries.

After their meal, Kate offered to help clean up, but Alexis and Martha refused to let her. Instead, they shooed her off to the sitting area with Castle. "Be honest," he asked as they took seats at opposite ends of his sectional sofa. "Do you ever take a dinner break? You know what they say—all work, no play makes Kate a dull girl."

"I'm not a dull girl," Kate defended quickly. He arched an eyebrow at her. "I'm not! I lead a very interesting existence."

He tilted his head back and forth, weighing her comment in his mind. "Well, I don't think I can argue with you on that point."

"Can I ask you something?" she countered after a moment of silence; he nodded. "Have you ever observed anyone like this before?" She had been curious about their arrangement ever since it began, and could not help wondering whether or not he often forced himself into people's lives the way he had done with hers.

"I do research for all my novels," he said informatively.

"Yeah, but…like this—the constant shadow thing?"

He shook his head and took another sip of wine. "No, not like this. I mean, the CIA could hardly let me follow their spies on their ops, right? Mostly, I do a series of interviews with people in a certain profession or people who are knowledgeable about fields I want to focus on."

Kate's brain jumped back to a key part of his answer. "You interviewed a CIA spy?"

He smiled devilishly. "I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you."

She rolled her eyes and set her wine glass down on the end table. "Well I think it's time for me to go." She had already spent enough time with him; she did not need to be around him when he was trying to be cute.

"Wait, stop," he held out his hand and she remained seated on the edge of the couch cushions. "Sheesh you're so touchy. And you never answered my dinner break question."

"Of course I eat dinner. I'm not a robot."

"At your desk?" he countered.

She shrugged. "Sometimes." He gave her a pointed look and she grumbled. "Okay, most weeknights – happy?"

"Happy that you broke free of those chains that keep your at your desk and came here for dinner, yes," he said with a smile.

She sighed and leaned back against the couch cushions. "Well, I suppose I would be remiss if I didn't thank you for dinner. I really did have a nice time. Your daughter is lovely."

He beamed in his proud father way. "Thanks; I think so."

"And your mother-"

"Don't worry," he interrupted her. "I won't make you finish that sentence."

Kate chuckled. "No, she's nice. I can see where you get your flair for melodrama."

He shrugged reluctantly. "Yes well…"

"Really, though," she said, standing from the couch. "I should be going."

"Not back to the office, I hope?" he asked, standing as well.

She shook her head. "Oh no. I think I've had a little too much wine for that."

"Well, I'm glad then. Until tomorrow, Kate."

Before she reached the door, she looked back at him over her shoulder and felt the slightest bit of tingling in her gut. "Goodnight Castle."


	9. Chapter 9

**Nine**

In Castle's opinion, it really took until his fourth week observing her when the two of them found their rhythm. He would bring his laptop to their office and tap out paragraphs and snippets of conversations for his chapters and outline while she would work. She had finally allowed him to accompany her on one of her client meetings (after clearing it with the client, of course), which had given him a great deal of useful information. And, for the first time, since their agreement began, she did not sigh dramatically upon sight of him.

Just after he finished typing up a particularly in-depth scene about Patience's family background, he saved the document, shut the screen on his laptop and slipped the item into the case at his feet. "So, Kate, do you have any plans for this weekend?" he asked, maintaining the utmost casualty.

She glanced up at him from her law review book, hair in a messy ponytail, highlighter between her teeth. "No, why?" she mumbled through the yellow object.

"Well, as you may or may not be aware, the mayor is putting on a charity event Sunday evening for one of his favorite causes and…well, I was hoping you'd be my date."

Kate gripped the highlighter between her index and middle fingers and pulled it from her mouth as though it was a cigar. "Gee, Castle. Two days until the event and you don't have a date yet? Cutting it a little close, aren't you?"

He smiled. "So you'll go with me then?"

She laughed. "Not a chance." She turned back to her book, highlighted a phrase, and then placed the cap back on the highlighter.

"But," he began, not even flinching at her rejection, "you'd really enjoy it."

She glanced at him with the most skeptical look he'd seen from her to date. "I'd enjoy it," she repeated monotonously. "Honestly…four weeks and you've learned nothing."

"You might enjoy it?" he offered with less confidence.

"Sorry Castle," she said, snapping the book shut. "If you wanted a date, you should have planned a bit more in advance. Don't worry, though, I'm sure there's some escort in New York City just dying to take your money."

"Okay." He stood from his chair and placed his palms flat on her desk, towering over her so much that he actually watched her lean away swallow hard. "Let's get one thing clear: I have never, nor will I ever, pay for an escort. Besides, I was just trying to do something nice for you."

"Nice for me?" she retorted in a snippy tone. "Why? Because I'm the pathetic lawyer who slaves away at her desk day in and day out and probably never gets a night out?"

"No," he replied calmly, sitting back down in his seat, "because it's the mayor's charity. It'll be good for your career to be seen at an event he's promoting."

She considered this for a moment, though said nothing.

"See, you know I'm right. The event is black tie and starts at eight; I'll pick you up at seven forty." He scooped up his laptop bag from the ground, shouldered the strap and took three steps towards the door. Before he reached it, he turned back over his shoulder and added with a wink, "Don't forget to text me your address."

Promptly at seven-forty, Castle arrived at Beckett's modest apartment towards the southern end of Manhattan. It was a nice neighborhood, he had to admit, but then again he figured lawyers such as herself certainly made a decent living.

It took almost two full minutes for her to come to the door. He had almost begun to worry when it whipped open and a blur of navy blue fabric disappeared from his gaze. "Sorry. Come in. I'm almost ready," her frazzled tone informed him.

"Take your time," he said, stepping into the apartment and shutting the door behind him. "I always like arriving fashionably late anyway." He took a few steps inside the door and gazed around the interior of her apartment.

Like many New York living spaces, everything was cramped, though not as much as he initially expected. Her kitchen was the size of a matchbox, though honestly it took well upwards of a million dollars in order to have one that wasn't. Progressing further through the space, he saw she also possessed a vast library, with book stacked on shelves and in piles above and below the end tables bookending her couch. Curious as to whether she possessed any books not related to law, he walked to the closest book case and examined the titles. Much to his delight, he spotted some of his own books.

Smiling to himself, he plucked the inaugural Derrick Storm novel off the shelf and ran his hands over the hardback spine. He was glad to see she kept her books in good condition, because the dust cover was not wrinkled, nor did it show any wear around the corners. Absentmindedly, he lifted the cover open and was shocked to find his own signature. It was inscribed simply with _To Kate_.

For a solid minute, Castle stood frozen with the book open in his hand. He had no idea what year the book would have been signed. To his signings, people often brought older titles, not the most current releases, so it could have been any time in the prior decade. Still, he was astonished. Even in the chaos and mass of faces at a book signing, how had he not taken one look at her and known instantly that his life would change forever?

"Whatcha doin Castle?" Her voice roused him from his trance.

He turned with a grin, holding up the book. "Just admiring your impeccable taste in lit—wow," he interrupted his own thoughts when he spotted her. She was a vision in a midnight blue strapless gown that fell all the way to the floor. It had a bead accented design across the chest and a blue ribbon at the waist. Her hair was swept back from her face in a mass of curls and she wore simple diamond stud earrings and a matching pendant. "You-you're beautiful."

She smiled gently. "Thank you. You clean up well," she said, gesturing towards his tuxedo. "Are you…messing with my bookshelf?"

"Wha—no!" he said quickly, replacing the book on his shelf. "Just looking. Let's go!"

An hour later, they were in fully entrenched in at classic New York City gala event. After sipping champagne and saying polite hellos to the mayor, Castle worked the room with Kate trailing along behind him as she did not know anyone else at the event. When they finally managed a free moment, he grabbed her hand without even asking permission and twirled her onto the dance floor. Though she gave him a perturbed expression at first, she placed her right hand in his and her left upon his shoulder as they swayed.

"Can I ask you something?" she began. He raised an eyebrow at her. "How did you get involved in all this? I mean, how did you first get published?"

He gazed at her, feigning shock. "You mean you haven't read the about the author section of my website?" At her annoyed expression, he chuckled. "I saw my books in your apartment, and I'm guessing you didn't just buy them all in the last four weeks." He purposely left out the part about finding his signature in one of the titles.

Her gaze dipped towards his tie and did not return to his. Knowing he caught her and loving every second of it, he continued. "Well, for the sake of argument we'll assume you did because spending your days with me just wasn't enou-AHH!" he whined when she stamped hard on his right foot. He glanced down briefly to make sure no blood was spurting out the top of his shoe and when he looked back he saw her smirking.

Clearing his throat, he continued his tale, "I'm afraid it's not all that interesting. I was lucky enough to find a young, hungry agent on my first try and then after that it was just a series of lucky events that lead me to get my first book contract."

"You certainly are—lucky."

For once, his expression turned serious. "I know I can be a cocky ass-hat at times, Kate."

She let out a short breath. "That's one term for it."

"But I'm not a complete fool," he continued. "I'm very fortunate and thankful for it."

She contemplated this for several more moments as they swayed. Then, she posed her next question, figuring if he spent his days trying to know everything about her, she had a right to a few queries of her own. "So, what would you be doing if you hadn't become famous novelist Richard Castle?"

He pressed his lips together and "hmm"-ed. "That's actually a good question. I never thought of it, I suppose because I was still in college when I was first published. I guess…I guess I can't imagine another profession because I never would have stopped trying. Writing isn't a career for me, it's my lifestyle; my passion. I can't think of doing anything else. At least, nothing that would make me this happy."

She nodded; finally something she could relate to. "I understand that."

"Do you? Does your job make you happy?"

"Winning a case is very satisfying."

"But satisfaction isn't happiness," he countered. She tilted her head left and right, conceding to this. "What would make you happy, Kate?" he continued. "What would make you," his voice deepened as he moved his lips closer to her cheek, "honestly and truly happy?"

Startled at the way his tone and his breath across her cheek caused the flesh on her neck and forearms to prickle, Kate breathed in sharply and twisted her neck so that their lips were mere millimeters apart. For a moment—for one fleeing moment—she dipped her gaze to his lips but then pulled away, stepping out of his embrace entirely. The song ended and the moment was over, but her blood continued to pound through her veins.

Shaking her head, she excused herself to the ladies' room, cursing her judgment as she walked. _Champagne always goes to your head Kate; you should know that by now!_ She chastised herself. Still, she was not convinced the champagne was entirely to blame.


	10. Chapter 10

**Ten**

Castle had seen the good, the snarky, and the (very rare) laughter from Kate Beckett, but now, five weeks into his shadowing, he was seeing the bad for the first time.

Cases were tough, there was no arguing against that. Armed robberies, petty theft, cybercrimes—he felt like he'd seen the gamut. Of course, none of them were easy. Victim's tales were always heart wrenching and seeing the pain on the faces of the families involved on both sides of the case was never easy. Most of the cases he had seen had been settled through plea deals, which caused them to feel less real, more like he was watching a play. Even the cases he'd watched her take to trial didn't seem that bad. At least, not until the murder case; nothing could have prepared him for that.

A seventeen-year-old girl had been stabbed to death on a basketball court after a late night game. From what the police had gathered, the girl's nineteen-year-old boyfriend had been arguing with another man, and she was stabbed in the stomach trying to break up their argument; she died before the ambulance arrived.

An eighteen-year-old friend of the victim's called 911 and agreed to testify, having witnessed the entire incident. Since the boyfriend, who had been picked up a week later on a narcotics charge, refused to testify (even when offered a lesser sentence for the drug position) the prosecutions entire case was resting on only the one witness's testimony.

The defendant, a nineteen-year-old low-level gang member, was well insulated by the gang and had several gang members testifying on his behalf; saying that he was nowhere near the park when the girl died. Fortunately for Kate's case, jury members would be more inclined to believe the tearful girl with the dead friend, then the men with the teardrop tattoos on their face. At least, that's what she explained to Castle. Still, the case wasn't easy.

True, he wrote about murder in every single one of his books, but that was all fantasy. No one had actually died. Sitting in the courtroom, looking at the crime scene pictures of the real dead teenager when her sobbing mother sat just a few seats away broke his heart. He could not even fathom his mental state had the dead girl been Alexis.

Unfortunately for Kate, the case did not go as smoothly as she hoped it would. On the morning she was to testify, the witness did not show up at the courthouse when the trial began. When she came in an hour later, obviously rattled, she informed Kate and her team members she could not testify for the defense. For the first time, Castle was able to see Kate shaken, off her game.

She requested a recess, for the trial to reconvene after lunch, and it was granted. Out in the hall, she implored the girl to give her testimony, but she continued to refuse. She was obligated to take the stand, but she would only say that she had been too far away to see who exactly had killed her friend.

When the girl left, Kate cursed and paced the hallway. It was clear the gang had managed to frighten the witness into backing off her testimony and there was absolutely nothing that could be done. Without the eye-witness, the rest of the case was weak at best. The murder weapon was reported to be a common knife, though the exact blade was never found. The park had no security cameras, and no other witnesses came forward.

After hearing the testimony (or lack thereof) from the only witness, the judge immediately dismissed the case, leaving the alleged killer to celebrate with his lawyers before walking out of the courtroom a free man. Castle could see the fury on Kate's face and felt his own gut begin to churn just watching her. He thought briefly of his original storyline for Patience Thorne—the defense attorney who killed the perpetrators she could not convict through the legal system. Ironically, that exact case would have been a perfect fit for that rejected storyline.

Castle watched Kate leave the courtroom as quickly as she could, stuffing papers and notepads into her bag and then heading directly towards the exit, not even looking him in the eye. He followed several moments later knowing he certainly did not want to get in her way, but he also just wanted to make sure she was alright.

He found her sitting on the courthouse steps, off to one side. She sat with her briefcase tucked between her calves and the step on which she sat, her forearms flat against her thighs and she stared out at the New York City traffic. He walked up behind her, but said nothing.

She did not look behind her but said softly, "You know, Castle, now really isn't a good time. I just need some space."

Still determined to help her, he sat on the step beside her. Folding his hands in his lap he said, "It's not your fault, you know. You did everything you could."

She laughed bitterly. "Yeah, well, sometimes that's not enough."

"You can't blame yourself. You carry the weight of the world on your shoulders but you don't have to." For the first time, she glanced over to him and he continued. "I know it's hard. In fact, I can't even imagine how hard it would be, but I know that blaming yourself won't get you anywhere. You just need to accept that sometimes you win and sometimes you don't and that in the end, things will balance out. Somewhere along the way there will be justice."

He truly believed that, too. Karma, justice, whatever you want to call it. Deep down he believed in it all. If you were a good person, good things would happen to you. Maybe not right away, but eventually. And, to him, the reverse was equally as true.

She ran her teeth over her bottom lip and let out a long, slow breath. "And for this victim's family?"

Castle lowered his chin to his chest. He could hear it in her tone; she didn't need to say it. Somehow he just knew she was talking about more than the victim's family from that day's trial; she was talking about her own family. The man who drove the car that hit her father—that paralyzed her father—had never been convicted. He never let her know that he knew about that case and, to be entirely honest, he didn't think about it often, but he realized then that she did; she thought about it all the time.

"In time," he began, "they'll see that healing is better than hate. Hate won't get you anywhere. At least, not anywhere you want to be."

She glanced over at him and gave him a half smile. "Thanks Castle."

He lifted his hand up and placed it lightly on her shoulder. "Anytime."

At his touch, she looked away, but he did not remove his hand. It took her over a minute, but she briefly lifted up her own hand and placed it on top of his, holding it there as they sat on the concrete steps, watching the city traffic go by.

Six weeks had flown by even faster than Castle thought they could. It felt like the blink of an eye; the exhale of a very long breath. Without a doubt, six weeks had not nearly been enough to fully comprehend the life of the most interesting ADA he'd ever met. But a deal was a deal and while Kate's permafrost had melted in the more recent days, he was concerned that the lawyer in her would enforce the six week expiration date on their contract.

As much as he wanted to bring the subject up so that he could bargain a deal with her, he decided silence was his best course of action. Unfortunately, being silent was one of his weakest qualities. It physically pained him to be quiet, but if it meant the chance of continuing their working relationship, he could manage it. After all, there was a possibility Kate would forget they'd reached the six week deadline. That was probably a one-in-one-million chance, but I was still a chance.

On the Friday at the end of the sixth week, Kate and her team were working on another murder case and preparing for all the depositions that would be taken the following week. When they finished unexpectedly early—at around five in the evening—Castle offered to buy a round of drinks for everyone. He could tell immediately that Kate was not interested in going (he suspected she wanted to stay and continue working), but he hoped the others would peer-pressure her into it. Much to his delight, his plan worked perfectly.

When Kate joined her colleagues at a dingy writer's bar called _The Old Haunt_ she was less than pleased. Actually, that was putting it mildly. The last thing she wanted to do was waste a Friday evening drinking with her coworkers. If she wasn't going to be working (which, in her opinion, she should have been given the great deal of work she had to do the following week) she would have preferred being home in her pjs, but she would play along and be social. At least, for a little while.

She watched as Castle opened a tab at the bar and invited everyone to place their orders. Not in the mood for any drinks involving hard liquor, she chose a white wine, and was on her way towards a booth in the back when a hand at her elbow guided her in a different direction. "No, sit over here," Castle said, pointing her to a different open booth.

"Why?" she asked suspiciously.

"This booth is special," he replied. Then, with his glass of bourbon he gestured towards the wall above them.

Kate followed his gesture and gasped in pleasant surprise. "Oh my god," she exclaimed at an easily decade-old picture of the man across from her. "Is this your booth, Castle?"

"Well, I don't know about _my_ booth, but I did spend a great deal of time here while I was writing my first few novels. When I made it to the New York Times bestseller list I was final allowed to hang my picture on the wall of greats."

"Very nice," she conceded before taking a sip of wine.

Castle made the rounds in the bar, saying hello to some old pals he hadn't seen in a while before rejoining Kate in his booth. "You know," he began, sliding in beside her. "I don't think you ever told me what made you want to become a lawyer?"

She let out a breathy glass and slid her glass back and forth across the table. "Oh, well, both my parents are lawyers, Castle; I don't think I ever really had a choice."

"Did you ever wish you had?"

"No," she answered immediately, then turned her head to look out at the surroundings and noted the volume of people had practically doubled since they'd arrive. "It's getting late so I should probably…"

When she moved to slide out of the bench, he did the same from around the other side. "Right. So…I'll see you Monday?"

For a moment, she paused, finding it interesting that he was choosing not to acknowledge the fact that they'd reached the six week mark—the prearranged expiration date of their agreement. It was ironic, she though, that when their deal began she was joyously awaiting that day. Now, it seemed like just another Friday with no significance whatsoever.

For just a brief second she toyed with the idea of bringing up the agreement if for no other reason than to make him sweat, or to watch as he tried to weasel his way into more time with her (which she knew he would). Had she not been so tired, that would have been entertaining to watch, but she simply was not in the mood. Instead, she offered him a half smile and nodded. "Monday."

With that, she turned to the exit. When she reached the stairs, she turned back and glanced over her shoulder to find he was smiling as he watched her go. She offered a small wave before ascending the stairs, back out to the bustling streets of New York.


	11. Chapter 11

**Eleven**

Richard Castle was in love with a beautiful chestnut-haired woman. He thought about her every moment he was awake and dreamt about her each night. She consumed his every thought. Her name was Patience Thorne.

Not since the beginning of the Derrick Storm series had he been so thrilled with a character. Eight weeks after his first shadow day with Kate Beckett he had developed the full plot for her inaugural novel: _Every Rose Has Its Thorne_. Though he'd initially thought his first post-Storm novel might be a standalone, the more he thought about the character, the more he realized she deserved much more than just one book.

Castle decided the book would open with Thorne at a crossroads in her life. She just ended things with her boyfriend of five years upon realizing he did not have the motivation (or, quite frankly, the talent) to be anything more than a constantly down on himself "starving" artist. She was beginning a new job in New York City after previously working in Boston. And, for the first time in eight years she is contacted by her older, estranged sister, who disowned her when she decided to become a prosecutor rather than a defense attorney.

The only detail Castle had yet to fully nail down was Thorne's reasoning for becoming a lawyer. Though he had one idea, he was not certain it was the direction he wanted to go in. He'd hoped to find that through his shadows of the lovely ADA, but she remained tight-lipped on her past. Considering she had generously allowed him to shadow her after the six week deadline, he did not want to press the issue too much, but still the curiosity plagued him.

Ever the resourceful writer, he hoped to dive into the details of her roots by calling her parents and setting up a meeting to interview them. His instinct told him she was closer with her father than her mother, so that's where he began. He looked up her father's contact information through New York University (thankfully he was still employed there) and was pleasantly surprised to receive an email back the same day, inviting him to the Beckett home outside the city for a Saturday afternoon interview.

* * *

Shortly before two p.m. on the day of the interview, Castle parked his bright red Ferrari outside the Beckett family home in a quaint residential neighborhood. After double checking the address, Castle tucked his sunglasses into the visor and stepped out of the vehicle. The two-story home had yellow siding and a navy blue front door and would have been entirely unremarkable had it not been for the wheelchair ramps wrapping around the side of the home to go in what he assumed was a back door.

He walked up the brick path to the front door and rang the doorbell. He only stood on the porch a moment before a thin, grey-haired man in a wheelchair opened the door. "You must be Richard Castle. Jim Beckett; pleasure to meet you."

Castle shook the man's hand. "The pleasure is all mine."

Kate's father led the way into the sitting room adjoining the front hall. The room was cozy with a floral print sofa and matching chairs on the opposite side of an oak coffee table stacked with books on New York architecture. Jim rolled his chair into the space between the two chairs, and gestured for Castle to sit on the sofa. "I'm sorry, my wife is on a business call right now, but she'll join us when she's done."

"That's alright," Castle said when he sat.

"Katie never told us someone was doing a story on her."

"Well, ah, it's not a story, per say," Castle confessed. Okay, so he had lied a bit in his email to her father, but it was much easier to say "doing a story about" than to explain "using her as an inspiration for my latest novel" in an email. "I'm actually a novelist. You may have heard of my work—Derrick Storm."

Jim nodded. "I think Katie's read those."

Castle smiled softly. "Yes, well, I'm working on a new series about a New York ADA and your daughter has graciously allowed me to shadow her for research."

Jim arched an eyebrow at him. "She…let you do that?"

"Ah…the mayor might have twisted her arm into it…"

He smiled and chuckled lightly. "That sounds more like my Katie."

Slipping his notepad and pen from his pocket, Castle flipped to a blank page and looked at the man across from him. "So did she always want to be a lawyer?"

"Well, we're a law-focused home, as you can imagine," Jim gestured around the room and Castle noted the various law degrees hanging on the walls. "From about the time she could talk Katie always said she wanted to be a lawyer like mommy and daddy. It was almost not even a question, which at times I regretted because I would have been just as happy if she'd chosen another path, but that wasn't for her. She went right from mock trial in high school to pre-law at Stanford. The only time I thought it might change was after my accident. I'm not sure if you-"

Castle shook his head. "Only what I've read in the papers."

Jim lowered his gaze to his lap and nodded. "Ah, yes, well it was a difficult time for all of us. I wasn't sure Katie would continue with her schooling but, for better or worse, it seemed to drive her even more. Ah," he paused when the clicking of heels could be heard and a woman appeared in the doorway. Castle stood immediately and tried his best not to stare at just how much Kate resembled her mother.

"Joanna, this is Richard Castle."

Castle stepped forward and extended his hand. "Pleasure to meet you ma'am."

"He's doing research on ADAs for his next novel and he's shadowing Katie," Jim explained.

Castle smiled at her. "You must be very proud."

"Yes, well," Joanna said, smoothing her sweater before taking a seat in the chair beside her husband, "becoming an ADA at her age is certainly an accomplishment." From the way she spoke, he could tell it wasn't an accomplishment she'd want for herself. After flicking her eyes over his frame, Kate's mother asked, "Can I offer you something to drink, Mr. Castle?"

"No, I'm fine thank you." He cleared his throat before raising his pen and notepad once more. "One of the first things I noticed about Kate was her drive. Where does she get that from? You, Mrs. Beckett?" He smiled at her, attempting to ooze out his usual levels of charm but it appeared, like her daughter, she was not entirely sold. She eyed him suspiciously, but before she could answer, the front door burst open.

"Hey Dad—Dad! Have you looked outside?! I think there's a Ferrari parked—Castle!" Clad in a long sleeve t-shirt, ankle-length jeans and ballet flats, Kate froze upon the sight of him. He could feel his face flush as his heart rate spiked; this was not good. Kate's eyes narrowed when she demanded, "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Kate!" he said quickly, trying to come up with a decent explanation on the fly. Failing, he stammered, "I, ah-"

"You didn't know he was coming here?" her father asked.

Kate folded her arms over her chest, flicking her head and ponytail as she did so. "No. He didn't mention it."

From her tone he could tell he was verging on facing cross-examining Beckett, and that was not a place he wanted to be. Hoping to smooth things over he began, "Well, I was just-"

"Can I talk to you outside for a moment, Castle?"

From the look on her face, he wished they would stay inside so there would be witnesses to his impending murder, but he knew that wasn't an option. Dropping his chin to his chest, he walked into the hall where she held open the front door. He resisted the urge to wince as he passed by her and stepped out on the porch.

A moment later, she stepped out and slammed the door behind them. Folding her arms over her chest once more she hissed, "You had no right, Castle, no right to come here. Without my permission? What the hell is wrong with you?"

Slumping his shoulders in defeat, he sighed. "I just wanted to ask them some questions about you. You're not the easiest person to get close to, you know that?"

"Oh, and you know that how? From the eight weeks we've known each other? I am so sorry for not telling you my deepest darkest secrets in that time," she added with notable snark.

Shaking his head in frustration, he took a step closer to her. "I'm not looking for deep, dark secrets, Kate. I'm just looking for something—anything. Every time I try to ask you about yourself, all you do is change the subject."

"So naturally you thought I'd be totally fine with you coming and grilling my parents about my life."

"I wasn't grilling," he insisted, "I was just-"

"Leaving," she said for him. "You were just leaving."

He turned to her with pleading eyes. "Kate."

If his stare affected her at all, she didn't let it show. Instead, she opened the door and refused to look at him when she said, "Goodbye, Castle," and slammed it behind her.


	12. Chapter 12

**Twelve**

Castle was a smart enough man to know when he was in trouble—big trouble—and he couldn't honestly say he blamed Kate for being angry with him. He knew she would not like him speaking with her parents, which was, quite frankly, why he didn't tell her (or ask her permission). He was hoping she would never find out or, at the very least, not be quite as angry as she was.

Though he could not change what he'd done, he was still hoping to be able to shadow her, so he needed damage control and he needed it quickly. He gave her a few hours to cool off and then decided he would go to her apartment that night to apologize. He picked up a bouquet of flowers on the way to help sell his case.

After sweet-talking the doorman into letting him in the building, he knocked on her door and held the flowers up in front of his face, hoping it might entice her to open the door if she looked through the peep hole. Unfortunately, this was an incorrect assumption, as the door did not open. Instead, all he heard was "Go away Castle."

"But I'm here to apologize!" he insisted. Speaking a bit louder that time, he added, "And I will do It through the door if you don't….open it," he added quitter when the door whipped open to reveal her scowl. He plastered a dopey grin on his face and held the flowers out to her. She stood frozen.

"You were right," he began, still holding the flowers out. "What I did was totally out of line, but you can't blame me for wanting to know more. The whole point of this was to do research-"

"Yeah, on the ADA position, not on me, Castle," she snapped. She did, however, walk away from the door and did not shut it. Seeing this as a sign, he followed her inside and shut the door behind him. Again, he smiled and held out the flowers. She snatched them up, disappeared into the kitchen, and returned a minute later with scowl and a vase.

As Kate walked with the vase to the large butcher block table several feet away, Castle watched her closely. She wore cotton shorts, which looked more like pajamas than regular clothing, a thin t-shirt and an oversized sweater that fell to her mid-thigh. Barefoot, with her hair in a messy bun, she looked even more attractive than when she was in one of her business suits (if that was even possible).

Swallowing hard, he took a few steps towards her. "No, if I wanted to research the ADA position, I would be following around that poindexter with the office beside you and sleeps with a copy of the rule book under his pillow at night. I wanted to research you, Kate. _You_. The strong, savvy, fiercely independent, determined to do the right thing through hell and high water ADA. And," seeing her glare begin to melt, he softened his tone, "you can't blame me for being curious about what's going on behind those iron clad walls you've erected around yourself."

Chewing on her bottom lip and shaking her head, she leaned one hip against the edge of the table. "You didn't think maybe I didn't want you to know?"

"But why?" he asked, stepping forward. "There's nothing to be ashamed of." He gazed off into the opposite side of her apartment as he reviewed his brief-yet-enlightening conversation with her parents. "I can't imagine how hard it is for you not to have your mother's support but-"

She stood up straight. "Excuse me? My what?"

"Your mother. I read an article about her weeks ago. I know she is a defense attorney. I wondered how that would be between you and now it's obvious that she isn't exactly a fan of her daughter being on the other side of the-"

"Stop it." She snapped, but he didn't listen.

"I mean, she probably wanted you to be a defense attorney too, right? Did you ever plan on…oh yes," he interrupted his own out-loud thoughts when the idea came to him. "You may have, but couldn't-"

"Castle!"

"Not after your father-"

"Castle stop! Enough!" She screamed loud enough to actually silence him. He stared at her, wide-eyed. "You don't know me, Castle. You don't know a goddamned thing about me so stop. Stop pretending you know. Stop pretending I'm a character you created—like you know me inside and out."

Seeing the tears of frustration threatening to fall to her cheeks, he took a step back, guilt chewing at his gut. Lowering his eyes, he said, "Kate, I'm sorry."

She laughed bitterly and brushed a tear casually from her right cheek. "Are you? Are you sorry? You don't seem sorry. You came to me eight weeks ago and turned my life upside down and-"

"Did you ever think maybe that's a good thing?" he challenged. "Maybe that's what you needed—to be flipped upside down?" He'd been thinking it all along—ever since he figured out just how much time she spent in her office. It was possible that she needed a wakeup call just as much as he needed inspiration for his next novel.

Folding her arms over her chest she insisted, "My life is fine just the way it is."

He shook his head, knowing she didn't believe that—she couldn't. "Is it? Is it fine? You live your life here, in this little cave you've constructed for yourself or at your office buried under case files. You do great work, Kate, there's no denying it, but I can see it. I've known you for eight weeks and I can see it—I can see how lost you are in all of it."

He took a deep breath and gazed down at her as she blinked up at him. "Keep doing what you're doing Kate because, my god, are you good at it, but you have to take a step back. There's more to life than cases—more to life than work. You don't want to wake up in ten years and realize you've forgotten to live, do you?"

She let out a laugh. "Don't you think you're living life enough for everyone?"

He flashed her an unappreciative smile. "I know how to draw the line, I won't deny that. But do you? Or do you need someone to show you?" Lowering his tone, he took two steps closer to that he was standing right in front of her. He brought up his hand and slid his fingers around her bottom jaw. "Kate."

"Don't," she warned, stepping back, though her path was blocked by the wooden table. She looked around quickly, as though she was attempting to find another escape. When she found none, she looked him right in the eye. "I was fine before you came here."

"You keep saying that."

"Because it's true."

"And if I leave? Will you be fine then?" Without waiting for her response, he stepped forward, slipped his hand below her jaw once more, and pressed their lips together. At that exact moment—the instant their skin was in contact—he felt an electric shock to his heart like he'd never felt before. It was if he had lived every moment of his life to reach that exact point; that exact second.

Breathless, he pulled back and gazed into her eyes. For the first time he saw everything he ever wanted, everything he never knew he needed, but suddenly she was it and he had to have her, no question about it.

He smashed their lips together once more, pulling her body against his, feeling the heat from her skin as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, kissing him back with equal passion and longing. He took two steps forward, backing her up against the table and holding her neck with both hands as their lips parted and tongues began to duel.

His hands ran down from her neck, over her breasts and around to the small of her back. He used this leverage to push their hips together. This elicited a moan from her which further drove his actions.

When his lips turned their attack on her neck, she began clawing at the front of his button-down shirt. For a moment, he thought she might rip it right off him, but instead, her hands took a southward turn and settled on his belt buckle, which she immediately began loosening.

Before Castle even realized what was happening, he was pushing her cotton shorts and panties off her hips, hoisting her up on to the table and driving himself into her. At his first thrust, she let out an elicit moan and hooked her knees around his hip. Pulling her body in line with his, she bit his bottom lip before kissing him again, fully, deeply. The wooden table legs squeaking against the floorboards would have almost been comical to him if he hadn't been fully consumed by his desire for her.

Kate's breath came in shorter and shorter bursts until suddenly she cried out, her fingers digging into his shoulders, her walls contracting around him. He reached his own climax with one more thrust, grabbing on to the base of her neck with one hand and her hip with the other. He danced a few kisses across her jaw and throat before pulling back and gazing down at her.

Had he not been in such an amorous mood, he might have laughed at her disheveled appearance. Her hair was an absolute mess, with strands sticking out at odd angles and a large chunk down across one of her eyes. Her lips were red and plump from their kisses and her expression was one of absolute shock.

For a moment, they merely stared at each other. Then, as though she suddenly fully realized what had just happened, Kate pushed herself off the table and wrapped her sweater tightly around her. She turned from him, scooped up her panties and shorts from the floor, and took two steps away. "You should go," she said quietly, refusing to look at him.

"Kate-"

"You should go," she repeated, taking a few tip-toe steps towards the bedroom area.

Castle sighed and zipped up his pants. "Kate, I'm sorry."

"Goodnight, Castle," she said before shutting the door to the bedroom and locking it behind her.


	13. Chapter 13

_A/N: I must admit I'm proud to have shocked you guys with the last chapter. I knew when I started this story that it would climax (pun absolutely intended) in a shocking way and I'm glad I succeeded. :) Thank you for all your great reviews!_

_There will be a total of 15 chapters in this story, but I will not update again until Monday as I'm going out of town for the weekend._

* * *

**Thirteen**

Kate didn't sleep Saturday night. She wasn't sure who she was angrier with: Castle or herself. Sunday morning she awoke exhausted and annoyed, but that time it was mostly with herself.

Though she valued honestly highly, particularly with her cases at work, the person she was least honest with was herself. She had always been good at denial, particularly when it came to her love life, but with Castle that denial was certainly at an all-time high; however, that denial did not typically come to such a dramatic breaking point.

As she sat in front of a bowl of Frosted Mini Wheats growing ever soggier that morning, she thought back to her initial meeting with Castle. She had disliked him just as much as she disliked every other cocky asshole to attempt to win her over with nauseating charm, but she knew then that she held on to that disliking façade much longer than was needed.

Truth be told, the dinner at his house was her dividing line between her being irritated by him and actually liking him. Granted, he still irritated her after that, but in a more tolerable way. Once you were able to sift through all his narcissistic bullshit, he was sharp and smart and, once he got his head out of his own ass, alarmingly observant. True, he pushed all her buttons, but in the way that kept her on her toes and, much to her chagrin at times, kept her wanting more and more.

As for when her tolerance of him had turned to physical attraction, she wasn't entirely sure, but it had happened, there was no denying that. Post-undergrad she had never kissed a man for the first time and slept with him in a twenty-four hour period and she was positive that throughout her life she had never done those two things in under five minutes—until Castle.

Kate was more of a slow-build type of girl: drinks leading to dates leading to kisses leading to more dates, which lead to other things. She liked it that way; it gave her plenty of time to think and consider before taking the next step with a man. She had obviously thrown all of that out the window with Castle but perhaps most irritatingly, she could not bring herself to regret it.

Much to her annoyance, she had to admit that Castle's assessment of her life the prior evening had been at least partially right. She was stuck in a pattern, stuck in her bubble. Without anyone in her life to shake it up, she could have easily spent the next hundred Friday nights alone at her desk with a takeout salad from the deli down the street.

Deep down, she didn't want that. She wanted a family like she had growing up and the opportunity for that wasn't just going to stroll into her office one day. Then again, she thought, maybe it already had.

* * *

Castle had to admit he was surprised to find a text from Kate when he rolled out of bed shortly after nine on Monday morning. He knew she was upset and it was definitely the I-need-more-than-twenty-four-hours kind of upset. He planned on giving her until at least Tuesday before trying to contact her again, but was overjoyed she had made the first move. He responded to her request to meet up for lunch and they agreed on a deli near her office at one that afternoon.

When Castle arrived, he found her already seated with a cup of coffee in front of her. He slid into the opposite side of the cramped table and a waitress brought them menus a moment later.

"I, ah," Kate began, looking down at her menu nervously. "I'm sorry for how I acted two nights ago. I just…I never expected that to happen."

"Just to be clear," Castle said, leaning closer to her. "Neither did I—not that I'm complaining."

She glanced up and flashed him a small smile. "Right well…I freaked out for lack of a better term and I just…" She let her voice drift off as she stared out onto the bustling New York streets.

Noticing she was struggling with words, he offered gently, "Kate, I'm not trying to be too presumptuous here, but is it possible you might have feelings for me?"

She turned her gaze to him cautiously. "It's…possible."

A grin blossomed on his face. "Really?"

"Stop gloating," she challenged.

"Sorry," he said, though his smile grew even wider.

The waitress returned to take their orders: a half turkey sandwich and a cup of chicken and rice soup for her and a turkey club with extra bacon for him. Once she'd taken their menus and left, Kate folded her hands on the table and looked at her lunch companion. "You were right. I live in my bubble, surrounded by work. I avoid relationships. I guess I figured that was the only way to protect myself to avoid being hurt."

She took a moment to gather her thoughts. "When my dad was hit by that hit and run driver it was a really hard time for me. I was with someone at that time but everything was so stressful my dad was in a coma for two weeks after the accident and my boyfriend just couldn't deal. Seeing as he was a twenty-one-year-old frat boy I couldn't blame him…but then we found out about my dad never walking again and I just couldn't take any more blows.

"Every time things seemed to get better something would happen - the guy who drove the car wasn't convicted and my mother wouldn't stop expressing her disappointment that I was becoming a prosecutor. I turned to work. Work I was good at. Work I could control. Work couldn't hurt me."

He nodded, taking in her confession. He knew she had been focused on work, but hadn't realized her love life had been quite so lonely. "And you never wanted to be with anyone—really be with them?"

"Honestly no." With a wry smile she added, "I never met someone I could stand."

"Until I wooed you with my charm and rugged handsomeness," he said with a nauseatingly cocky smile.

She bit her lip and shook her head at him. "And who says I can stand you?"

"Funny," he retorted.

She leaned forward with her forearms on the table. "Castle, if there's going to be an us, I need to take things slow—slower than the other night."

He nodded. "I can do that. And, Kate, just to be clear—I definitely want there to be an us."

She smiled over at him as the waitress delivered their meals. They ate in silence for several moments before Castle said, "Come over tonight and I'll make you dinner."

"And this would be…like a date?" she asked, suppressing the urge to put an ear-to-ear grin on her face.

"Yes, a date; our first official date. What do you say?"

"Absolutely."

* * *

Before leaving the diner after their lunch meeting, Castle had promised a romantic evening, and he was certainly delivering on that promise. That evening at his apartment, Kate was met with roses, soft music, and dozens of candles—all of which put a dopey grin on her face, but she didn't mind; he was wearing one that matched.

He had prepared marinated steaks and a delicious potato side dish, which Kate continually praised as they ate. Along with compliments on the meal, she handed out ones on the wine as well, which Castle seemed most grateful for. Evidently, he was somewhat of an amateur wine connoisseur and admitted to wanting to be an investor in a winery in the near future.

He presented her with a chocolate torte for dessert, but confessed to picking it up at his favorite bakery. As he put it, he was more of a cooker than a baker. Though, from how delicious it tasted, Kate did not really care where it had come from.

"Can I ask you something I've always wondered about?" he asked as she finished her torte; she nodded. "Why do you wear that watch?"

"Oh," she said with light surprise, looking down at the timepiece on her left wrist; she had never expected that question. "It's my father's. He was wearing it when he was hit. I had it fixed for him, but then I kept it. Wearing it reminds me that everything can change in an instant."

"I'll drink to that," he said with a nod, holding up his wine glass. She smiled and tapped their glasses together. After draining his, he stood and carried both his glass and dessert plate to the kitchen. She mirrored his actions. "So, Kate how would you rate this date?"

She leaned up against the counter beside the sink where he stood. "Oh, is there a comment card I can fill out?"

He turned his head to the side and looked at her. "Sorry, all out of those. Just give it a score from one to ten."

She looped her arms around his neck, leaned her face into his and whispered, "Nine," before kissing him soundly. Pulling back, she "mmmed" under her breath and amended her answer, "Nine and a half."

"Nine and a half?" he repeated. "How do I get the full ten?"

She shook her head at him. "You'll have to figure that one out on your own."

He gave her another quick kiss before sighing, "Well, the night is still young. Why don't you go into the den; I want to show you something. More wine?"

"Just a little," she said before leaving the kitchen and crossing through the sitting room into his office area. Her gaze was immediately drawn to the vast number of bright yellow stickie notes on the wall behind his desk area. Deciding to use her one minute head start to do a little spying, Kate stepped behind the desk and began to read the Post-its.

The first note she found read "Samantha Thorne—Patience's sister" and she realized that the notes were probably outlines or plot points for his upcoming novel. Considering how tight-lipped he was being on the plot, she felt even more excited about her snooping.

The next stickie contained the phrase "Thorne tortured by father's unsolved murder" and the next "hit-and-run driver." Kate felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up and felt perspiration immediately form on her upper lip. As though she was living her own horror movie, she continued moving down the line of notes.

_"Thorne in college when father killed—made her want to be lawyer?"_

_"Obsessed with the case"_

_"Rift between sisters: prosecutor vs defense"_

"Okay so—what are you doing?" Castle asked when he entered the room, a wine glass in each hand.

Kate spun to face him, fire in her eyes. "What the hell is this?" she demanded gesturing towards the wall.

"Uhh…" he froze, completely at a loss for what to say.

"Thorne's father is killed by a hit and run driver?! God, how could I have been so stupid." Kate shoved past him and stalked her way out of the den, her stomach positively churning.

Castle followed her quickly, "Kate, wait!"

"I'm such an idiot," she cursed herself before whipping around to face him once more. "I cannot believe I told you all that. And that's all you wanted, isn't it? My story."

He shook his head. "No, Kate, never. I just-"

"What? What could you possibly say?" The tears burned in her eyes as she spoke and gestured towards the den. "It's all right here. You saw me and used your little parlor tricks to figure out that I was wounded and then you knew all you needed was to get my story and you would have yours. Who needs creativity when you can just steal the story of the closest damaged woman?"

"Hey," he interrupted sharply, "now listen-"

"No, you listen Castle," she spat. "We're through; we're done. This—whatever the hell this was—is over. Over. And I never want to see you again." She left his apartment, slamming the door behind her, and made it to the elevator just as the tears began to fall.


	14. Chapter 14

_A/N: Thanks for being patient for the update guys!_

* * *

**Fourteen**

Castle felt sick. Absolutely sick. The last thing he'd ever wanted to do was hurt Kate. Yes, he had decided that Patience Thorne's life story would be inspired by hers, but that wasn't meant to destroy her; it was meant to celebrate her. Despite what had happened to her, Kate was an amazing woman, and he had hoped he could show that to the world through the character of Thorne.

Refusing to let her believe the worst of him, Castle knew he had to apologize, but given how angry she was he also knew that, once again, he needed to give her some time. He was not delusional enough to hold out hope that she would be the first to contact him that time, but that was alright. He had a plan.

After giving her two days to cool down, he went to her apartment with the full intent of groveling, apologizing, and then begging for forgiveness. He knocked but she didn't answer. He knew she wasn't at the office because he'd called before he went to her place to confirm she had left for the night. Figuring she was just ignoring him, he began to apologize loudly through the door once more.

Fortunately for him, his stupid plan worked and after a solid minute of his caterwauling "Sorry; I'm so sorry" she whipped open the door, though she looked more livid than he had ever seen her.

"I know you said you don't want to see me," he began immediately, "but you have to let me explain. Then, if you still don't want to see me, I swear I'll leave and I'll never come back." He figured the lawyer in her might go for that sort of deal, though, in all honesty, he was hoping he would never have to make good on the latter part of that agreement.

"Why should I?" she snapped.

"Because the lawyer in you wants to know the truth," he answered. "Just pretend I'm on the witness stand; interrogate me."

"I don't want to interrogate you, Castle; I don't want to see you. Period." She went to shut the door, but he pressed his hand against it to stop her. Her expression grew even more lethal.

Resisting the urge to shield his face from an impending blow, he spoke quickly. "Wait, wait, wait. Okay, yes. Yes, Patience Thorne's story was inspired from your life, but it's been that way for months. I googled you right after we met and I found that article about your father. _That's_ when I came up with Patience's story; not after our conversation at the diner."

She blinked at him. "I'm sorry, is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"Of course! I didn't lie in wait for weeks in our relationship to wait for you to reveal the truth behind your father's accident; I figured that out right away so I could use it in the story!"

She rolled her eyes, turned away from him and tried to shut the door again. That time, he stuck his foot in the opening and her death-glare returned.

"Wait, okay, I can see that I'm not doing a very good job of explaining this. Here," he said, handing over a thick folder, "I brought you this. It's the first eight chapters of Thorne's story. Read it. Read it and you'll see what a good story this is!"

"You mean what a good story you've created by manipulating parts of my life?" she snapped.

"Just read it. Please? And I swear after you read it if you never want to see me again I'm gone. That's a promise."

She took the folder and stared at it for a moment before looking back up to him. "What if after I read it I don't want you to publish it?"

He waggled his head back and forth for a moment, considering this. "Well…my publishers think that it's actually one of my best-" He was cut off by her slamming the door in her face.

* * *

For the remainder of that week and well into the next, Kate spent every moment she was in her apartment staring at the manuscript sitting on the edge of her butcher block dining table. It, coincidentally, sat on the exact spot where they'd made love for the first time. Considering that was a moment she was also trying to ignore, she spent a great deal of time out of her apartment doing nothing other than wandering around the city and thinking.

Part of her wanted to throw the manuscript away and never look at it, or think about Richard Castle again, but she knew that was wrong. That was the part of her that hid from relationships and buried herself in case work so she didn't get hurt. That part of her was wrong, and she knew that, but damn it was so much easier than the alternative.

By Friday, over a week after he'd delivered it to her, she could stand her curiosity no longer. She poured herself a half-the-bottle sized glass of wine, and took it with her to the couch along with the manuscript. Sitting cross-legged with the manuscript folder in her lap, she began to read the tale of Patience Thorne.

She alternated chewing her lip and sipping her wine for the entire first chapter, determined to be irritated with the story; forcing herself not to enjoy it. By the second chapter, though, her feelings changed and she became curious as to how he was going to develop the relationship between Patience and her sister, how he was going to explain the death of Patience's father and, most importantly, how he was going to develop the relationship between Patience and her new coworker, Ethan Rose.

Despite the fact that parts of the story were ripped from the headlines of her own existence, Kate found herself wishing for more after she finished the eighth chapter and final page in the folder. She stared across her apartment at her bookshelves, her eyes naturally settling on the "Castle" section and shook her head. Damn him for being such a good storyteller.

Kate though back to the first book of his she had read: _In a Hail of Bullets_. The book had been recommended to her by a roommate, so bored one evening she picked it up. It only took her four chapters to be completely engrossed in Derrick Storm's tale. She'd finished that book in two days and immediately sought out more of his works from the local library.

She remembered fondly getting lost in those stories, particularly around her father's accident. Yes, they were entertaining in their own right, but they also provided the escape she so desperately needed. An escape that she could not selfishly keep from others searching just the way that she had been.


	15. Chapter 15

**Fifteen**

Shortly before eleven on Friday evening, Castle sat at his desk staring blankly at the word document on his computer screen. He should have been writing, but the words just weren't coming. His publishers had been thrilled with the first eight Thorne chapters, which caused them to demand more with even greater enthusiasm, but his heart just wasn't in it. He'd left it back in the apartment of a young ADA, who he feared would never forgive him.

A knock at his apartment door stirred him from his thoughts. His daughter was out with friends and his mother…well, he didn't know where she was, but he knew she was not coming home that evening, which was more than enough information for him. That begged the question: who was at his door? Curious, he stood from his desk and strode across his apartment.

"Kate!" he proclaimed with surprise. "W-what are you doing here?"

"Can I come in?" she asked gently. He nodded quickly and stepped aside. "I'm sorry it's late but-"

"No, no," he said quickly. "It's fine." She pressed the manuscript folder into his hands and he thanked her. "Did you read it?"

"Yes." She nodded. "It was fantastic. I want more," she added with a light laugh.

Letting out the breath he'd been holding for over a week, Castle laughed as well and led the way to the sitting area in his apartment. He sat beside her on the couch and watched as she rested her forearms on her thighs and laced her fingers together.

"Do you know when we first met?" she asked, looking up to him. "I mean, no—of course you don't. How could you remember?"

"When?" he asked, figuring it had something to do with the signed book he found in her apartment weeks earlier.

"It was almost ten years ago; I was twenty-two. It was a few months after my father's accident—actually just a week and a half after he came home from the hospital. You were doing a signing for the latest Derrick Storm at a Barnes & Noble on 5th. I didn't want to go because my mother needed help at home but she told me no, I had to go, because I was doing so much I needed a break. So I went and waited in line for almost two hours. As I waited, I thought about what I'd say to you, because your books helped me so much.

"When my father was in the coma, my mother and I didn't want him to wake up alone, so we took shifts sitting beside his bed. For a while, I tried to talk to him, but after a few days, I couldn't think of anything else to say and the more I sat in silence, the more I worried he would never wake up. So, I decided to read to him. I read _A Rose for Everafter_ and it was an escape; an escape I needed."

She paused her story and slid a little closer to him on the couch. "I had these grand designs of what I'd say but when I got to the front of the line I just stood there, dumbstruck. I honestly don't even remember if I managed to say thank you when you signed my book and then, when I left, I was so mad at myself because I knew I'd never get the chance to tell you in person how much your books meant to me."

Castle smiled, reached over and put his hand atop hers. Her words meant more to him than he could ever say. "Except you are now."

She nodded her head and then turned towards the manuscript resting on the table. "It's a really good book, Castle; maybe one of your best."

"Well, I have great inspiration."

She looked back at him and her cheeks flushed from the way he was gazing at her. She moved her hands so that his was sandwiched in between hers and she laced their fingers together. "I want you to keep going; I want you to finish and to publish because I remember what it was like when those books spoke to me, helped me. I don't want to take that from anyone else."

He leaned over and brushed his lips against her cheek. "Thank you. For everything you said. And you have to know, Kate—it was never my intention to hurt you; I would never do that."

"I know."

"So," he began, his heart rate speeding. "What about us?"

She brushed her thumb against the back of his hand and tilted her head as she looked at him. "You know I'm still a little angry with you because you didn't tell me how you were using my life."

He nodded vigorously. "Yes and I apologize for that. How can I make it up to you?"

A grin blossomed on her face. "Oh I'm sure you can think of something to persuade me."

Accepting that challenge, he slid his hand from her grasp, slid it under her jaw and used it to guide her face to his. He kissed her, tangling their lips together, skimming his tongue against her bottom lip until she let him in and he devoured her.

"Well, uh," she cleared her throat when she pulled back a few moments later. "That's one argument I won't be able to try in court."

Castle laughed loudly and pulled her into his arms. Together, they fell back against the couch and Kate leaned her body into his chest. She lifted her head, pressed a kiss onto his throat, and sighed. "I suppose I have to tell you that you were right again."

"Naturally," he responded with an air of self-approval. "What about this time?"

"Me," she said simply. "I needed someone to come in and flip my world upside-down and tramp through it like a bull in a china shop."

"Like a bull in a china shop?" he repeated, amused. "I'm sorry but, as a novelist, I cannot permit you to use such a cliché phrase."

"Okay, then," she sat up and stared back at him. "Like an irritating, question-filled man-child."

He leaned away from her. "Okay, I admit to being irritating and question-filled, but man-child is just offensive."

She arched a suspicious eyebrow at him. "Castle, what's that?" she asked, pointing across the room to a futuristic looking object draped over the back of a chair.

"Oh! My laser tag vest! Alexis and I were playing earlier and—oh, okay, I see where you're going with this…."

"I rest my case," she concluded proudly before cuddling up to him once more.

He put his arm around her and kissed the top of her head. They sat in silence for a moment before he came to a realization about what it would mean to be in a relationship with a lawyer. "This…this is how it's going to be, isn't it? You're always going to win arguments aren't you? I'm never going to win again, am I?"

She considered this for a moment. "Well, never is a bit strong of a term…"

"I will rarely-if-ever win," he corrected.

She lifted her head and smiled. "That sounds about right. You got a problem with that, Castle?"

He thought for a moment. "Do I still get to see you naked?"

"Yes," she laughed.

"Then no," he smiled. "No problem at all."

-Fin-

* * *

_A/N: Thank you all so much for reading. I really appreciate all the reviews you've given me!_

_Also, I have a AU Season 3 fic that I will be posting this weekend if anyone is interested in that._

_Thanks again!_


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